Psychiatric Hospital
by soraxtsuna123
Summary: After an accident, Ponyboy Curtis found himself in a mental hospital. He meets many interesting people in the facility like Steve and Johnny, and thinks that he is getting better. But Ponyboy couldn't help but notice people being checked into the ward disappearing one by one over night. Curtis brothers aren't related.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the outsiders!**

**o-o-o**

My grey-green eyes drifted from side to side frantically. Where was I? How did I get here? I remember having a good life with my two parents. Then I ended up in an unfamiliar place. I was sitting on a wheelchair, being pushed through a door by people in doctor outfits. All I could hear was the small taps of footsteps, the quiet hum of the air conditioner, the clicks of my wheelchair as it hit another crack in the white tile, and my fast heartbeat. We were passing through a long hallway to another metal door.

Where were my parents? Heck, where were my own clothes? I was now changed into a light blue, cotton pants with a matching shirt. I was also wearing thin, white slippers. The change in clothes was completely different then my usual clothing which always consisted of a sweatshirt, jeans, white high-top converses, and a comfortable t-shirt.

The doctors pushed me through the metal door and I soon found myself being pushed in front of a receptionist desk. The woman behind the desk, looked up from her work as my wheelchair came to a stop.

"Hello, may I help you?" She asked, pushing back her hair behind her ear.

"Yes, we are checking in Ponyboy Michael Curtis," informed one of the doctors. The woman flipped through a giant book and scanned the pages.

"Ah, yes. Ponyboy Curtis! Age 14. He has an excessive imagination that is too dangerous to be around the more sane people." What? "I take it that he has recovered enough from the hospital?" Wait, hospital? Recovered?

I looked down to search for any injuries, now noticing my arms wrapped in a thin layers of bandages. Around my neck, forehead, legs, and abdomen was pressure, indicating that it too was covered in bandages. The more I realized that I was injured, the more I could feel the sharp sting of the injuries that lied under the wrappings. What happened? When did I get these?

"Yes, only minor injuries that can heal in the next few days are left."

"Thank you, I can take it from here."

The doctors pushed me up to her and she grabbed the handles. She then reached over, grabbed the phone, and dialed in a number. She pressed it against her ear and I could slightly hear the rings before a muffled voice answered.

"Yes, is this Darry?"

A pause.

"Yeah, this is Marcia, the receptionist. Listen, there's a new patient here today. Do you mind counselling him? And yes, he shares a room with the other you council, Sodapop."

Sodapop? That's an unusual name. Then again, my name _is _Ponyboy.

"Thank you."

The woman, Marcia, hung up and a few minutes later a man walked up. He was a tall man, between the ages 20 and 26, and was incredibly ripped. Although he looks young(ish), his eyes shown maturity. He looked like someone who grew up too fast.

He walked over and Marcia handed me to him. This must be Darry. Darry nodded respectfully before pushing me towards the hallway behind the desk. The farther we went in the more people we saw in the same outfit as I wore. The all turned to look me over; probably deciding my fate.

"So, your name is Ponyboy. That's an original name. Your soon-to-be roommate's name is Sodapop," Darry started. I could tell this was awkward for him.

"Why am I here?" I asked instead.

"Well, I don't know yet. I haven't read your file yet."

"Any you were willing to _'help' _me even though you don't know? The lady in front…uh…Marcia said that I have an erratic imagination? But I don't have that. I'm normal."

"Most new patients say that they are fine. Usually, they don't realize what's wrong with them."

The wheelchair came to a stop in front of a room. Room 43. Darry opened the door, peeking his head in.

"Soda, your new roommate is here." Darry pushed me in the room. Inside were two beds that were on different walls. There was a small window, too small to fit your body through, which showed the outside world. Sitting in one of the beds was a teenager that was about seventeen. The first thought that came to mind was 'gorgeous'. Now, I'm not saying this because I like boys. Sodapop looked like a really handsome movie star, or model. He probably attracts girls like bees are to honey.

Sodapop got up from the bed, loping over to me with a huge smile that was as bright as a thousand suns. It confused me as to why he was here.

"I'm Sodapop, you can call me Soda," he greeted.

"I'm Ponyboy," I said, giving him a mild smile.

If his smile could get any bigger, it just did. "Ponyboy? You have an original name too! That's so cool."

"Alright, I'll leave you for a few minutes. I have to go pick up your files, Ponyboy," Darry said before walking out of the room. Soda sat back down on his bed.

"So… I know that we just met, but can I ask you a personal question?"

"Sure?" I wasn't sure where he was going with this.

"Are you disabled, since you're in that wheelchair?"

"I don't think so. I hope not. I can feel my legs. I just woke up being pushed here in a wheelchair. I can try getting out, but I do have injuries, I think, on my legs. I really don't remember getting them."

"You don't remember?"

"No, I was with my family at one point then I was here." I tried to get out of the wheelchair, wobbling a bit on my feet before steadying. I sat on the other bed and pushed the wheelchair aside.

"That's weird," Sodapop concluded. "So, do you know why they put you in here?"

"I was told I had an erratic imagination that can harm others. What about you?"

"I have DID."

"Dissociative Identity Disorder?"

"Yup! Right now, you're conversing with the original alias… I think…"

"How many personalities do you have?"

"I really don't know. The one that mostly comes up is named Dean. Dean loves to harm people."

"So he's a sadist."

"Uh…sure. The other that comes up a lot is practically your everyday womanizer."

The door opened again and two men walked in. "Oh, hey Steve, Two-Bit!" Soda greeted.


	2. Chapter 2

The two newcomers were completely different, personality-wise. One of them looked like a jester; well, not really. He looked like someone who always made jokes. The other looked more composed.

Right when the two entered the room, their eyes locked onto me.

"Who's that?" The more composed one asked.

"That's my new roommate, Ponyboy!" Soda introduced. The chilled one snorted at the sound of my name and I felt my ears warm up from embarrassment. I could already tell I would not like him much.

The goofy one sat down next to me and swung an arm around my shoulders. "I'm Two-Bit. Don't wear it out," he introduced. I smiled my "hello" at him.

"I'm Steve," the other said. "I'm Two-Bit's counselor."

"So, Stevie, what's up?" Soda asked.

Steve's face lit up a bit. "Oh, Darry said to take you to dinner. He is going to be late."

Soda nodded, standing up. Two-Bit followed suit and I followed the three men out the room. We weaved through the hallways and I did my best to memorize the way from my room to the cafeteria. We passed through a hallway with a dimmed lightbulb. I wonder what's down there and why they keep it dim. I was going to ask the others when I saw a dark silhouette of a large figure move in and out of my vision, catching my immediate attention. Who…? I shook my head. It was probably a counselor or patient here.

"Ponyboy, hurry up!" Two-Bit yelled.

"Sorry," I called back and caught up with them, now realizing that I stopped walking.

We went into the mess hall and got our foods on trays. I stared incredulously at the glop of food on my tray. Was this considered food? I sat down at the table with the guys I met today and poked at my _food_. It smells like food… I scooped a chunk out of the glop with my spork and put it in my mouth. It tasted like food. I guess its fine. I started to eat it a bit faster, realizing how hungry I was. It felt like I have not ate in ages.

Once I scarfed down my supper I asked a question that bothered me. "Why was that hallway dimmed out?"

Soda frowned at the question. "That's where the patients that refuse to leave their rooms are. Most of them keep the light off, so it would be easier on their eyes when the counselors check up on them. In fact, Steve is taking care of one: Johnny. How's he doing, anyways? Any progress?"

Steve let out a sigh and leaned back against his plastic chair, running a hand through his hair. "Johnny still won't talk to me. He won't talk to anyone. Well, except for Dally, but he could barely get Johnny to speak. It's rare. I don't even hear Johnny talk. It's just rumors. The kids hopeless at this rate."

"Johnny still won't move from that corner?" Darry asked, joining us at the table. He placed the unopened files on the table. Curiosity peaked my attention on the boy.

"Can I try talking to him?" I asked.

Steve shrugged. "Be my guest. Just don't get your hopes up. We can go after everyone finished eating."

Everyone agreed. Darry opened the files, reading through my files. His stoic expression had a bit of impressment on it. I wonder what he's reading that made his expression to change like that.

"Did you skip a grade, Ponyboy?" Darry asked.

"Yeah." I answered.

"That explains your age as a softmore. You have strait 'A's as well as having good times in the track team."

Soda whistled. "Wow."

"Does that file say anything about my parents and why I was put in here?" I asked.

Darry read the file more before shaking his head. "Your parents wanted you to get better and was scared for you."

"Then why am I covered in bandages and came here pushed by doctors in a wheelchair?"

"You got in a fight with someone and got really hurt."

I frowned before nodding. Something was _off _about what he was saying. I am not a person who just _gets _into fights. If I do, there had to be a really good reason for it. After everyone finished eating, we gave our trays up and Steve took us to the dim hallway. We walked until we found a metallic, green door that was labeled with a '15'. Steve knocked on the door quietly, then opened it. It was dark inside; the only light came from the dim lights in the hallway. I could make out a figure in the corner of the room. Steve walked to the light switch, flicking it on.

In the corner of the newly lit room, was a darker skinned boy with long hair. Bangs mostly covered his frightened looking eyes. He looked a bit older than I was. Johnny reminded me of a scared puppy.

I walked over to him slowly; as if to not frighten him away, and sat down. His attention was now focused mainly on me. I smiled gently at him. "Hi, my name's Ponyboy," I introduced in a hush tone. "I just came here."

I waited for a response, not expecting anything to come out of the other. "I heard you won't talk to people. But, you can converse with me. I don't bite…unless someone took the last slice of chocolate cake. Then it's _war_."

Johnny's lip twitched. It was almost unnoticeable. I smiled brighter. "But, you know, people have to speak. Talking is a great stress reliever and it can help you solve any problem. No one is supposed to be alone. If you don't talk now, then I'll still press on until you accept me as your friend."

Steve cleared his throat and I nodded towards him, understanding his message. I turned back towards Johnny. "I got to go now. But, hopefully, I will see you again. It's a lot easier to talk to you then them, so I enjoyed this conversation." I stood up. "Bye."

"Bye…" Johnny croaked out quietly. His voice was enough to rip through the silence. For a few moments, the fear left Johnny's eyes and I saw shyness. I smiled and waved before leaving the room.

After the door closed, the others looked at me with shock and disbelief. I wish I could take a picture of their faces right now. "He talked to you!" Two-Bit gasped out. "He doesn't talk to anyone!"

"What did you say to him to talk to you?" Steve pressed.

"I just asked if he wanted to my friend," I shrugged and walked off towards my room.

**o-o-o**

**Replies:**

**_Goldenthorns_: I actually thought about Ponyboy with DID, then was like, "Nah, Soda will get that." I don't know what else is there for him. So I did. But, gosh, nursery rhymes are so creepy. But you made them about murder? That sounds scarring to other people. Then again, I did change them to be satanic and made a propane man that came to my house scream and leave because I was just being really creepy that day... It made me laugh.**

_** The Curtis Crew: **_**If you weren't sure about this story, then why did you read it and review for it?**

**_Sarahlacksanity: _Aw, yosh. I'll try me best to impress you! :D**

**_Candie Winston: _Your review made me blush so much and made me happy for a week. No one had ever said that to one of my stories before. And yes, it does take place in 1966.**

**_Seth Clearwater: _You'll find out some of it next chapter. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

_At first, everything was all black. Then I saw the scintillating, colorful, bright lights. Wailing sirens muted the chatter of surrounding pedestrians. Why were so many people around me? My vision was blurry and it was difficult to move my body. I tried to look more around me to try to understand what was going on, but my head moved on its own. I looked down at my resting arms where my vision blurred even more. But even with the lack of control of my sight, I could tell what the dark color over the light skin was: blood._

_My arms raised, turning over so that the palms faced upwards. Mt hands shook tremendously. Was this my blood? Before my mind could register more, I felt a pulling sensation. The perimeter around me blurred even more until all faded to black._

I shot upwards out of bed, panting. My heartbeat was quick and I was sweating something fierce. What was that dream? I focused my eyes on the silhouettes of my hands. Flashes of blood on them embodied in my mind. Was it a memory? It would make sense since I did come here wearing bandages. If it was, what happened?

After wracking my head for more memories, coming up with nothing, I decided to just give it up for now and think about it later. I lied back down on my bed, eyes closing. Tomorrow I plan to remove the bandages.

The next morning, I woke up before Sodapop. I swung my legs out of bed so they jangled off the side. The light that blared through the locked window was bright. How could Soda sleep through that?

Soda mumbled something in his sleep, snapping my attention to him. He murmured something about…a sandy nurse? Well, okay then.

I hopped out of bed and started to prowl around the boring room. What was I supposed to do now? Am I supposed to wait until Soda wakes up or Darry enters the room? Am I supposed to wait to take off the bandages? Am I allowed to just waltz outside?

Taking off the bandages now would not hurt. Plus, I could always put it back on if I needed too. The suspense of the need to see the damage was killing me. I grasped onto the bandages and unwrapped myself. Under them, scars were carved into my skin like an art piece. Deep and shallow scars went horizontally, vertically, and crisscrossed on my arms. The images flashed in my head and I shut my eyes tightly to attempt to keep the images out.

"Good mornin'…" Soda's fatigued, almost slurred, voice broke the silence, making me jump. He pushed his body up drowsily, face sheepish.

"Good Morning," I replied.

"Are you taking off your bandages?"

"Yeah."

Soda sat up completely, stretching his muscles. "What does it look like? Do you remember anything?"

I turned around and walked to him, holding out my arms. His eyes widened. "I…" I opened my mouth to say something, only to close it. Should I tell him about my dream?

It turned out that I didn't have a choice to tell him or not. Sodapop was a lot sharper than I had imagined. "What is it?" He asked. "You can tell me."

"I had a dream last night… but… I don't remember it," I lied last second, crossing my fingers that he would believe it.

Soda frowned, an action that I thought that I would never see. "That's too bad. These scars are pretty bad. It would be nice knowing what had happened."

I shrugged and unwrapped the rest of the bandages. During that time, Darry walked into the room, greeting us. He told us to go over to the group confession where he would meet us later. Soda led me over to a large room with plastic chairs all lined up in a circle. A lot of people were already there and sitting down.

We both sat down next to each other in vacant seats. I tapped my fingers on my knee nervously. I have seen how they do these confessions in movies, but I do not remember how I got here yet. Soon enough, everyone was seated. The only person I noticed not there was Johnny. Everyone wore the same clothes except for one older man that was balding, a few stray grey hairs on his head.

"Good morning everyone, it's time for the group confessions. Since I do see new faces, how about we go around, say our names, and a few things about yourself. Who wants to start first?" The man asked before going ahead and pointed to a random male that sat near me. "You, start."

The male clicked his tongue in annoyance as he crossed his arms. "My name's Curly."

"Would you like to tell us about yourself?"

Curly laughed, probably at an inside joke before answering in a seducing tone. "What do you want to know about me?"

"Not what you're thinking. Let's skip that. What are you in here for?"

"Conduct Disorder."

If the movies are correct, he's going to say 'and how do you feel about that' soon or make him tell a story about how he found out.

"Would you like to tell a story about an event? Or what have you done?" Called it.

"Let's see, I have broken into someone's house, broken in peoples' cars, initiated in physical fights, set property on fire, do I need to say more?"

Someone stood up quickly, pointing an accusing finger at Curly. "Wait! Were you the one who stabbed my brother?"

"Probably."

"You should be put in jail for all of your crimes!" Another person stood up.

"Everyone calm down and sit down. What Curly has can't be controlled. It's pretty serious!" The counselor commanded, making everyone sit down. Glares were sent to Curly. "Okay, next person."

We went around the circle and I learned a few things. There was a guy named Bob there who scarily has Frotteurism. Two-Bit had kleptomania. A girl named Angela had Stockholm Syndrome. Another guy walked into the room, only to leave soon after. Steve chased after him. That must have been Dally. Soon it was my turn.

"My name is Ponyboy," I introduced, earning chuckles.

"Alright, what are you here for?"

"Schizophrenia."

He looked at me questionably. "I'm sorry, how old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"It must be pretty severe then. The younger you are with the disorder, the more severe. It usually occurs with adults or late teens. Do you know what triggered it?"

I shook my head. "I actually don't remember anything."

A look of disappointment showed on his face before he continued. "Alright, can you try to remember what happened? Look deep in your mind. You don't have to if you do not feel like doing so, though."

I nodded. "I… can try."

I was unsure if I should proceed with this or not. After what I saw in my dream, I am scared of what I would see. But, I also want to know what happened.

I closed my eyes, and was consumed by the darkness of my mind. I did not know what to do, so I just imagined myself floating, surrounding by closed doors of different types. I hovered over to the closest door: a tavern-styled, wooden door. I pulled on its steel handles, and a rush of memories ran through me. It was a memory of my first day of preschool. I was pretty shy back then and clung onto my mother's long-skirt. I pulled out of the memory and closed the door. The door faded into oblivion soon after.

The next door was like a submarine door, but that was not what I was looking for. I spent what felt like hours searching in my memory before a small trapdoor caught my attention. I floated down and pulled on the latch, but a chain was wrapped around it like a boa constrictor and its prey. I pulled at the chain, but it refused to budge. I soon gave up.

The wooden trapdoor had a small hole in the wood. On the other side, there was a bright light. Maybe I can look through there? I pressed my face on the wooden door and peered through the small gap.

A faded image entered my brain, but it still felt like I was there.

_Fire rose around me as tall as a great wall. Its flames danced across my skin. I was swatting at my body to extinguish the fire, but it was futile. I could hear myself scream and smell the burning flesh._

_The memory was hard to concentrate on because all I could feel was myself being burnt alive._

"_Ponyboy!" I heard someone call. Dad? A figure emerged from the fire, a worried expression plastered on his face. But it was not my dad. My back pressed harder into the corner of, what-now-I-noticed-as, a closet. I was back home. I could recognize some of the burning junk that was put away in here._

_The man stepped closer to me, but I snapped at him. "S-Stay away!" He froze._

_He was a large man, maybe as big as Darry. He had dark, curly hair and a small beard. His eyes were a piercing brown. "Ponyboy, calm down, it's me! We have to get out of here!"_

_The man had his voice. Why did he have dad's voice? Where was mom?_

"_I don't want to go anywhere with you!" I coughed from inhaling the smoke and put my t-shirt over my nose to filter the air. "You killed her!"_

_The man came closer and grabbed at my burning arms urgently, ignoring what I said, but I pushed him off of me with all my might. It was hard to move my arms, I noticed. The fire on me was almost too much for me now and I could feel that I was going to suffer greatly from this. The man stumbled back, a look of shock on his face, as he tripped over a burning baseball bat._

"_Ponyboy!" He cried out. Then a snap was heard before you could hear something falling over. The man look upwards, fear evident in his eyes. Then, the man disappeared; in his place was my father. He screamed as a cabinet fell on top of him._

"_D-Dad!" I screamed._

I was pulled out of the memory as well as the dark conscious of my mind. My head snapped upwards and I fell off the chair, screaming. I could still feel my flesh burning and I clutched at my arms. My body quaked. I heard voices but they were muffled by my loud heartbeat.

Arms wrapped around me, making me freeze, tensing up. The arms tugged my backwards until my back hit something warm and firm. My head cranked upwards and my wide eyes fell upon Soda who had pulled me against his chest in a comforting manner.

"Ssh, it's okay. Calm down," Soda whispered. My trembling body soon calmed down and my heartbeat synced with his. "Are you okay?"

"Y-Yeah…" I lied, and everyone knew that I did. I looked away from Soda and he unwrapped himself. My eyes flashed to the clock. Five minutes. I was looking through memories and out in the total of five minutes. A nurse scurried into the room and rushed towards me. Her eyes were full of worry as she placed her hand gently on my shoulder. She sure was pretty. She had stunning red hair that reminded me of a cherry.

"Can you walk?" She asked. I nodded, and stood up. "I need you to come with me."

We both walked out of the room and I looked down at my arms, noticing something new that wasn't there before. There, on my arms, were pink rashes. Burn marks.

**o-o-o**

**Sorry I updated this so late. Just: school. Yeah.**

**Review Replies:**

_**Seth Clearwater**_**: Hope? Haha, you should know that he will talk to Johnny more. Johnny is actually a big part of the story.**

_**Candie Winston**_**: Every one of your reviews make me blush /. You're not stupid. I actually forgot what the name of the disorder he had until another reviewer pointed it out for me. Hehe. I hope this chapter helps explained what happened to him more.**

_**Goldenthorns**_**: I have a feeling you ship JohnnyXPonyboy. If you do, you're probably happy that Ponyboy was the second person he talked too since coming to the hospital. I hope that chapter this helps a lot on explaining what happened.**

_**Nadine1231966: **_**Thank you!**

_**One-Tuff-Cookie723: **_**Really? I thought it was a pretty lame ending. . I guess not now. Thank you.**

_**Guest: **_**That's the disorder that I forgot the name of! Yeah, he is. :D Thanks for telling me the name.**


	4. Chapter 4

My medicine raddled as I tossed it up in the air. I was bored. There is nothing to do. I thought about visiting Johnny, but Steve sent me off, saying that Johnny cannot always have me hanging around. I could not find Two-Bit anywhere. That leaves Soda.

I threw the small bottle, which contained two pills, up in the air one more time before pocketing it and leaving my room. It has only been a few weeks, but I memorized the floorplans of most of the floors in the hospital. But finding someone would be hard. Not only is most of the people here wearing similar garbs, but everyone was moving around, doing small activities.

That's when I saw someone out of place than the others. Soda was slouched forward, hand on the wall, and a flirty smile on his face. His eyes were filled with lust. In front of him was a beautiful woman, a small smile on her face. She was wearing a nurse's outfit.

I could just barely make out some of the words they were saying from where I stood. "Sandy…you are… and…you."

The girl, who must have been Sandy, blushed as Soda leaned in to whisper something in her ear. He then leaned forward and planted a small kiss on the corner of her mouth. I could feel my ears going red. I have no business here. I spun around and walked the other way.

Something about Soda was not right. It was like he was a different person. Another persona. That must have been the womanizer that Soda was talking about.

I walked towards the direction of Johnny's room. Maybe I could talk to Johnny now.

When I got there, Steve was walking out of the room. We locked eyes before he trudged off with a groan. He must really hate this job.

I entered the room. "Hey, Johnny!" I greeted. Johnny looked up from his corner, relaxing a bit. But he did not answer back. I sat down in front of him. "Do something. I'm bored out of my mind."

Amusement flashed in Johnny's dull eyes but it was instantly changed into curiosity and worry when a flash of that fire went through my head. I guess my expression changed.

"What's…wrong…?" He croaked out.

I shook my head. "It's really nothing." I rubbed my arms. The feeling of being watched was back. My eyes observed the room. It felt like the shadows were moving around.

A feeble hand touched my arm. I did not have to look to know who it was. I took a deep breath. Johnny was going to make me spill.

"Well… during the confession… they made me try to remember my past and I think I did…but… it was way too surreal. There was fire everywhere, my dad… Oh, Johnny, I don't know what to think. It can't be true…"

"Go find…out."

I nodded. "You're right. I'll go check out my files. See you later?"

Johnny gave me a tight smile and nodded. I stood up from the ground and left the room, walking to the front desk stealthily.

"Marcia?" I asked once I was there. The front desk was vacant. With a shrug, I walked behind the desk and to the file counter where I thumbed through the files until I found one labeled my name. I pulled it out, looking around once more, and opened it. The paper clipped to the first page was a school picture of myself. I scanned through the page.

_Ponyboy Michael Curtis_

_Birthday: July 22, 1952_

_Current School: Will Rogers High School_

_Disorder: Schizophrenia _

_Siblings: None_

_Mother: Sarah Lucy Curtis (deceased)_

_Father: David Darrel Curtis (deceased)_

I froze at the information. Both of my parents were dead? But… didn't Darry say otherwise? Was he lying? My knuckles started to turn white as they tightened around the file. How did they die? My mind shouted warnings at me to not go any further, but I just had too. I flipped to the next page where a newspaper article was cut out.

_Wednesday, Sarah Curtis was killed in an accident. Both her and her son, Ponyboy, were seated in the car, driving down the freeway when their car swerved out of control and fell down a trench, flipping a few times before landing on the bottom. Besides the car, there was only one casualty: Sarah Curtis. Her son left the accident with only a few scars. But, Ponyboy Curtis, before put in an ambulance, got up and disappeared._

Memories flashed in my head from that day. I was in the passenger's seat; my mom was driving. I was reading a book… Gone with the Wind? I looked up from the book to look at the setting sun and out at the end of my vision there was a small silhouette. As we drove closer, I started to see what it was more clearly. It was that man I saw in that vision in the fire. I remembered shouting at mom to watch out for him; she only screamed in surprise and looked at me confused. I was so puzzled at her reaction, but I had to do something. I grabbed the wheel, swerving it to one side to avoid hitting him, but the car went too far and then everything went black.

I killed her? I killed my mom…

My breath shook as I turned to the next article.

_Wednesday, the house that belongs to Sarah Curtis and David Curtis, with their son, Ponyboy, was lit aflame. A few hours after the disappearance of Ponyboy, the house caught on fire. It was found that this was not a coincidence. David Curtis was home that day, as told the neighbors, when Ponyboy ran in the house bloodied up. It was a few minutes later when they had heard a scream emit from the house and loud noises. It was soon after when the house caught on fire, quickly spreading. Moments later, firefighters and ambulances came to the scene. The alive body of Ponyboy Curtis was carried out and taken away, but the body of the father was not found. He was cremated in the house during the fire._

By now, tears were falling down my cheeks. He killed them? Both of his parents were killed on the same day.

"Ponyboy?"

I looked past my shoulders and saw Darry there, a worried look on his face. This expression angered me to no end. Why would _he_ be feeling sorry for _me? _"You lied to me!" I snapped, turning around and marching up to the larger man. Darry looked at the file in my pallid hands and he came into realization.

"Listen—"

"No! I'm done listening to you! You told me that they were okay! You told me I was here because of a fight! Is everything you had said to me a lie?"

When I looked in Darry's collected eyes, I saw a mixture of both that man from the fire and him. I threw the file at his face and threw a swift punch. Darry looked surprised, cradling his soon-to-be bruised face. But the phase did not last long. Darry quickly pressed a button on the desk and in seconds, I was pinned to the floor by other councilors.

I can just hear that _man's_ cackles as I was brought back up to my feet and forced down the hallway. I squirmed and struggled against the hold, but one teen can only do so much.

"Let me go!" I growled. Patients pushed out of the way, some joining to watch my departure. My teary eyes scanned the crowd.

He was everywhere. That man was in my line of sight, everywhere I looked. Why couldn't anyone see him? My eyes caught a hold of Soda's eyes. His eyes were wide. I gave him a pleading look for help. He caught on. In front on my eyes, Soda's face changed completely. His shocked look turned into a scowl.

Dean.

The persona marched to the captors, glaring them down. They froze in place, eyes wide in fear. They have all seen 'Dean'. Dean lashed out, punching one strait in the jaw and elbowing another. The grip on me loosened and I broke free, stumbling to the cold ground. Before me, Dean kicked ass. It seemed like no one was a match for him. Then a girl pushed through everyone. Sandy. Behind her back, she held a needle. Dean's attention turned to her, diverting his attention from the councilors who jumped on him, pinning him down. Dean spat out curses that made me cringe. Around us, patients were cheering, wanting more action. But it looked to be over soon, and Sandy brought the needle closer to Dean's neck.

The shrilling squeak of a door, stopped everyone. The point of the syringe was only a few centimeters away from soft skin. I turned around, following the sound. The door to Johnny's room opened. At first, I thought it was Steve. But the figure that peeked out was not quite as tall as him. A dark-toned skin young man looked out.

"Johnny," I breathed out.

**o-o-o**

**Notes:**

**-'That man' will continued to be referenced to that guy Ponyboy keeps seeing. He is not an actual person. Just someone that Ponyboy imagined at set up lies with that frightened him. More is revealed later.**

**-Since the book never actually referenced Ponyboy's parents, I had to make up names, so sorry if you think the name should be otherwise.**

**-Soda is obviously really protective over Ponyboy. Like the book, they are like brothers (but they are bros in the book) even though they recently just met.**

**-Time is obviously moving quickly and already has been a month or so since Ponyboy arrived. Thus, Johnny's relationship with him is pretty tight.**

**-Dally will be further introduced soon.**

**Thank you!**

**Replies:**

_**The Curtis Crew**_**: I'm just going to just…say…okay! I don't really know how to react to your review. It confuses me.**

_**Seth Clearwater**_**: I hope this chapter answers more questions.**

_**Guest**_**: I just looked through to what you were talking about and I face palmed. Omg. Those small mistakes are going to bug me to my grave now. I'll be more careful. Thank you for pointing that out to me. I'm actually not planning on getting a Beta because of time purposes and the fact that I want to feel the satisfactory of finding the errors that I do find. I'm getting better at finding them. That's an improvement.**

_**Chick1966**_**: OKAAAYYYY! :D**

_**Goldenthorns**_**: I figured that was you. No harm. . Yeah, they're my notp too. Omg… do I even have an otp from the book…? I guess not. I just flow with what I feel like I guess.**

_**Candie Winston: **_**You're not the only one who feels stupid! I'm in the same boat! Haha. I feel so honored that I'm the reason you're here. Seriously I am. I notice the changes in fanfiction in the TO fandom too. It all slowed down and makes me sad because they're all really the same idea over and over again. When I come up with idea I'm just like, "bitches, I'm doing this!", to my school friends.**


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